Touch of a Stranger
by ghostofanother
Summary: COMPLETE When Dean and Sam find yet another case, they come in contact with a haunting girl with a gift for the supernatural
1. Eluding the Nightmare

**Touch of a Stranger**

Chapter One: Eluding the Nightmare…

_She was faceless, nameless…but Sam knew that she was important. All he knew was that he wasn't having the nightmare about Jess, and that was good-very good._

_He could barely see the girl, it was like they were standing face to face in a pitch black room. Neither of them had spoken, and yet, he knew somehow that what she would have to say would be very important-life and death. He felt as though, within this dreamstate world, that he knew her-well._

_"Sam, you have to save Dean. Don't worry about me, I'll be alright. I just want you to find Dean and get him out of here." She spoke in a faraway voice, that echoed in the space around them. He was almost sure that she was crying. But what was wrong with Dean?_

_Just as he went to ask her about Dean, a force swept out of the darkness and took her. Moments later, Sam heard a blood curdling scream echo throughout the-building, house? He wasn't sure._

Sam awoke with a start, sitting forward in the passenger seat of the car his brother was driving. Dean wasn't exactly startled by his brother's state. For a while now, he'd been having nightmares.

"Jess again?" Dean asks.

"No," Sam answers vaguely. Dean's surprise is evident, but he doesn't get a chance to reply. "Where are we?" Sam changes the subject.

"Smack dab in the middle of nowhere," Dean sighs. "Well, that's not completely right. I know that we're in Vermont, I just don't know exactly _where_ in Vermont we are."

"Where are we going?" the younger brother inquires, trying to relax again.

"Ashland, Maine. It seems this quiet little town of 1,500 has been making the national news. Unexplained deaths, disappearances, and some sort of haunted mansion. At least some think that all the strange happenings are due to the history of the mansion, which isn't exactly pretty. Seems there's been a lot of really horrible things connected to the house since its beginnings, back in the early 1900s. you know, the usual-tragic deaths, murder, disease-the whole bit. Apparently, most parapsychologists thought that, due to all the 'lost souls' in this place, the mansion itself sort of started to…take on a life all its own. A lot of experts have done research there, and about 15 years ago, it was declared that the house was a dead cell. This was only because it-or the things inside it-had no one to feed on. But, for some reason, the damn thing has awoken. After 15 years of silence, something triggered this thing back into action. In the last six months, eight people have been found dead, and 13 have mysteriously vanished."

"And they _think_ it's because of the freaky house? Or do they know, Dean? Do they really _know_?" Sam asks, a bit exasperated. He's hoping they're not on another wild goose chase leading to nothing. "Dean, if they aren't absolutely sure that it's because of that house, then it may not even be our sort of thing."

"Does it matter if _they're _sure? I've got a hunch that this is exactly what we deal with."

"We can't always go off your hunches. It's gotten us into place where we're not needed before, and it'll happen again."

"Sam, we went to help Beck and Zack simply because you _felt_ that it was our sort of case. Come on, I have a lot more on this house than you did on the shapeshifter."

"Okay, fine. Ashland, Maine, it is, then," Sam reluctantly complies. Leaning back and closing his eyes, he hopes that, if he falls asleep, he can avoid dreaming at all costs.


	2. Dreamscapes and Landmarks

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from _Supernatural_. But a girl can dream, can't she?

Author's Note: Sorry about forgetting to put a disclaimer on the first chapter, in all my excitement, I forgot it. Hope ya'll enjoy. By the way, I've never actually been to Maine, I just picked out a town, so sorry if I offend anyone…

Chapter Two: Dreamscapes and landmarks…

_It was dark, pitch black, and he was cold. With each passing moment, it got colder and darker. His body shook with cold, and he couldn't see his own hand in front of his face._

_"Sam!" he heard a voice call out of the darkness-a female voice. "Sam!"_

_He spent seconds groping around in the darkness. It was the same place as before, he was sure of it. And he was searching for the same girl. Out of the dark behind him, a hand grabbed his arm and he spun around to face it, whatever it was._

_"Sam, you have to save Dean. Don't worry-" her words were cut off by the shaking._

Sam opened his eyes and sat up, Dean's hand still on his shoulder. "She had green eyes," he whispers.

"What? Another dream about Jess?" his older brother inquires, eyes back on the road.

"Huh? No, not Jess. Someone else."

"You're dreaming about someone else? Sammy, that's an occasion. Who is it?" Dean smirks.

"I don't know. I feel like I know her in my dream, but I've never seen her face, but this time I could see her eyes, and they were green. Bright green. Gorgeous," Sam muses.

"Sammy, I haven't heard you sound so infatuated with someone since your first crush in junior high. And to think, you don't even know who she is," he chuckles.

"How many times do I have to tell you…it's Sam," he rolls his eyes. "And I'm not infatuated with her. Just intrigued. It all just seems so real. Like it's happened…or is going to happen."

"That's great. And probably nothing to worry about. We're here. Now, where do you think the best place to ask questions here in Ashland is?" Dean asks, looking out at the quiet street.

"How about the diner," Sam suggests, pointing a little ways ahead of them.

Walking into the quiet diner, the boys are met with stares from all of the ten people-at the most-scattered about at tables, booths, and sitting at the counter. Sam follows as Dean claims a stool at the counter.

"How can I help you boys?" an older gentleman asks. He's got a sort of charisma about him, his hair is white and quite thin on top, and he shows indications of having been a farm boy, stocky and solid.

"Well, we're only here for a few days. We work for the FBI, and we're here to ask around about these mysterious deaths and disappearances," Dean suavely states.

"You must be talking about the stuff over at the Williams' mansion," the man replies. "Now that's a strange story. I've lived here my whole life and have never understood it."

"Yeah, the Williams' mansion, that's the one. What can you tell us?" Sam pipes up.

"I don't know much more than what the town rumors and the papers say. But I do know someone who can help you. Mikey Williams," he states, running his hands over his white apron.

"Can you tell us where we can find this Mikey Williams?" Sam asks.

"Yep. I can help you out." Moving away from them down the counter, he leans over it, and calls to a booth in the back corner, where someone sits behind a newspaper, "Mikey! There's some boys here that wanna talk to ya!"

"Charlie, I've done enough talkin'," a voice replies, the paper never moving.

"They're Feds, Mikey!" Charlie retorts, a pleading tone inching into his voice.

"Fine," Mikey sighs, lowering the paper.

"Wait, 'Mikey' is a girl?" Sam whispers to Dean.

"From what I can see, that's a definite yes," Dean grins widely, surveying the petite figure.

Mikey stands and walks toward them, her long, wavy, jet black hair frames her soft face, her olive skin giving her an exotic quality. Her brown sweater is worn and a bit tattered, overlapping her tiered, olive green and brown paisley printed skirt that ends at her knees, where it meets a pair of brown leather stiletto boots.

"Mikey Williams is the last living descendant of the famous Williams logging family. Mikey, these boys want to know about the deaths and disappearances," Charlie reiterates.

"I'm Sam, and this is Dean. We're from the FBI," he states, holding out his hand for her to shake.

She takes his hand, smiling graciously at both gentlemen. For the first time, Sam notices that she's wearing fingerless gloves. "Charlie, why don't you get these boys a couple of coffees. And me a cheeseburger and fries." Charlie nods his response.

"I like a girl with a healthy appetite," Dean muses, only loud enough for Sam to hear.

Sam, however, couldn't share the joke. Something about this strange new girl was familiar. Suddenly it hit him…her eyes, they were the most unique he'd ever seen. Green…bright green.

"Why don't we move over to a booth. They're much more comfortable." The brothers follow her to a booth back toward the corner. "So, what can I do for you?" she asks in an overly sweet tone.

"So, Mikey-you know that's kind of a unique name for a girl," Dean leans toward her across the table.

"It's short for Micah," she answers shortly as Charlie brings the three of them coffee.

"So, Micah, you're the last-"Sam begins, but she cuts him off.

"Look, I don't know what kind of scam you guys are running, but the FBI already came around, and they all spoke to me. Now, if you know what's good for you, you'll turn around and go back to wherever you came from," she says fiercely, her green eyes flashing.

"Well, Micah, they sent us in to do some follow up work," Dean covers.

"Please," Micah sighs, fed up. "Don't try to pull this over on me. You're _not_ FBI agents, and you can't honestly think that anyone could fall for that."

Dean is caught off-guard by Micah's frankness, and Sam can tell that they're not going to be able to hold up this act any longer. As the three sit in silence, Charlie brings Micah's food, and Sam watches as she slips off her brown wool fingerless gloves.

"Okay, so we're not Feds," Sam admits once Charlie is out of earshot. "But we're here to help."

"Look, I don't know who you are, but you don't have a clue as to what's going on here. This town does not need the help of two strangers looking to be heroes. So, like I said, why don't you just go home and leave the people of Ashland alone."

"It's not that easy, Micah," Sam begins. "You don't understand. We _do_ know what's going on, and we _can_ help. That is, if you're willing to let us."

For several moments, they sit in silence, Micah looking from Sam to Dean and back again, unsure of what to do or what to say. Her green eyes show uncertainty, unsure of whether or not to believe them and accept what they're saying.

"Micah, please," Dean finally speaks up. "There's no reason for anyone else to die. Let's stop it before someone else gets hurt."

She hesitates yet again, looking down at her small hands on the table. "Okay, I'll help you," she finally gives in.


	3. First Night

Disclaimer: Again, I don't own anything that you recognize, which means that I don't own Jensen or Jared either tear.

Author's Note: I'd like to say thanks for the reviews! I really enjoy getting to hear what you think about the story…so, thanks to Modern-Insomniac1138, lisa b green, Saynt Jimmy, and ashlyns. I can't say right now what is going to happen to Dean because, well, it would ruin the story!

Chapter Three: First night…

"This place is huge," Dean sighs, leaning up against the gates in front of the massive house.

"It was given to Sarea Williams by her husband, Henry, when they were married. The house, after they began living in it, seemed to have a spirit of its own and it started to torture her," Micah explains, standing behind the other two, making sure not to touch the gates.

"Like the Winchester Mystery House?" Sam asks, looking up at the gigantic structure.

"Yeah. Sarea told multiple people around town that she felt like something was haunting the house. The only thing was that Henry never heard or saw anything. Henry, the heir to a logging fortune, was hardly ever home due to traveling for business. It was around town that he had a different woman in every city-"

"Ah, the beginning," Dean cuts her off. Micah looks at him, a scowl on her face. Noticing, Dean feels remorse at interrupting her. "I'm sorry. Go on."

"Anyhow, Sarea found out, and suddenly she became much more of a homebody. Instead of going to social gatherings and parties, she spent all her time inside the house. Not long after, she began building on, with Henry obviously supplying the finances, it was her way of hurting him. He had no idea that she knew about his multiple infidelities. It was while construction was just getting underway that Sarea gave birth to twin boys." For a moment, Micah pauses, staring up at the building her great-grandfather had called home.

"Sorry, I don't mean to interrupt," Sam begins cautiously, not wanting Micah to get angry again. Micah turns to look at him, her eyes telling him to continue. "Did you say that she 'regretfully' had children? So she didn't want to have any?"

"At least not by him, am I right?" Dean speaks from behind her. She turns to looks at him, an indignant glare in her eyes. At the same time, he can see in her big green eyes that he's right.

"Yeah. In the journal she kept-which is a family heirloom-she spoke of even killing the twins as infants. She wanted to drown them so that they wouldn't have to grow up in a disgraced family. One of them was Adam, my great-grandfather." She looks back at Sam, as though knowing he would say something.

"So you think that Sarea's spirit is trapped here?" he inquires, looking down into her eyes. He realizes how small she is: even with the stiletto heels, he's a good foot taller than her.

"Her and whatever tortured her. Rumor has it that the house was built on a old cemetery, where Native Americans were buried in graves with no headstones. Some say Henry knew about the burial ground, others say that the people who sold it to him just didn't say anything. I guess now nobody knows," Micah finishes. She wonders briefly if Sam and Dean will believe any of this or if they'll think she's crazy, like this entire town has thought of her family for decades.

"Can you get us into the house?" Dean asks, going to the gate once again. "I don't think we can do anything without getting in there. Maybe spending the night."

"Don't you get it?" Micah spins around on a heel to face him incredulously. "That's how most people have died or disappeared. Some were doing studies, others were just plain stupid. Very few people who've spent a night in there have been seen alive again."

"Well, I think we have to take that chance," Dean states, moving closer to her.

"I apologize," Micah answers sarcastically, stepping up to Dean's challenge. "But I'm the only person who can get you in, and I value my life-quite a bit, actually."

"Look, just give us the keys and we'll go without you," Dean retorts. At this point, they're nearly on top of each other, Dean towering over her.

"I'm not about to give _you_ the only keys to this place just to have you die and then have to go in and get them myself. Let alone allow you to roam around in a family and town landmark," Micah raises her voice.

"Then I'm sure we could pick the lock, right Sammy?" Dean grins triumphantly. Sam doesn't answer, only rolls his eyes at the nickname and sighing at Dean's remark, knowing full well what Micah will say.

"Well then I'll just have to have you arrested for trespassing, won't I?" she scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest.

Dean doesn't answer, simply looks down into her eyes, appearing as though he's going to explode with anger and frustration. Sam wasn't sure he'd ever seen his older brother-ladies man extraordinaire-so visibly frustrated with someone of the opposite sex.

"Okay, okay. Why don't we just do some…outside research tonight, and think of a better way to go about solving the problem with the actual house," Sam suggests, wanting to stop the fighting. The other two look at him as though they had forgotten he was even there at all.

"_That_ is a feasible task," Micah agrees, smiling warmly up into Sam's blue green eyes.

Satisfied, the small girl turns her back on the mansion, walking back to Dean's 1967 Impala, Sam on her heels.

"Hey," Dean seethes, coming up behind his brother. "I thought you were on my side? What the hell was that all about?"

"Dean," Sam begins, turning to face him. "We need her on our side. Don't you understand that? She's the one who can help us the most. Just wait it out. I'm sure we can bring her around, okay? But you need to stop being so quick to get angry with her. Settle down."

"Whatever," Dean scoffs, turning away from his brother toward his car.


	4. In Your Dreams

Disclaimer: Alright, don't own anything that you recognize….but I'm asking Santa for Jensen for Christmas ;) By the way, I got the idea for the house from the genius Stephen King, for anyone who's seen "Rose Red".

Author's Note: Thanks for the great reviews, I really appreciate it. Sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter up, but I've been busy with school work and such…college certainly is no picnic…

Chapter Four: In your dreams…

"So, what's your plan? You know, where are you going to stay or anything?" Micah asks from the middle of the backseat of Dean's car.

"Well, would you mind housing two, uh, supernatural hunters, for a couple of nights?" Sam asks carefully. He crosses his fingers, hoping Dean will keep his mouth shut for a few minutes.

Unexpectedly, Micah lets out a huge laugh. "Is that what you call yourselves? Don't tell anyone else around here about that. They'll think you're crazier than I am!"

"Well, it's the only way I could think to explain it," Sam chuckles. "But could we? Stay with you, that is."

"I suppose," she replies. "As long as he doesn't come anywhere near me." She gestures toward Dean.

"I think I can corral him," Sam guarantees.

"I'm sitting right here, you know!" Dean says through clenched teeth, pulling into a parking space in front of the diner.

"Sadly, I'm very aware of that," Micah sighs, as she crawls out of the backseat with Sam's help. "Okay, you can just follow me to my place," she calls over her shoulder as she walks to her own car.

"What did I say about being nicer?" Sam asks, looking at his brother.

"Well, Sammy, it's just so difficult when she's so-rude."

"She's only responding to you. Besides, she's the only person in this entire town who can do anything for us. The last thing we need is her calling the cops."

The two brothers watch as Micah pulls out in her car and Dean allows her to pass to be in front of them.

"Check that out!" Dean exclaims, leaning forward on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on Micah's fire-engine red vehicle. "Sammy, that's a 1967 Charger-in great condition. You know, I might be able to get along with her."

"Well, it's a start," Sam sighs.

Minutes later, they pull up in front of a small, one story house with a porch and large wooden front door.

"Hopefully she'll have room for us," Dean says sarcastically to his brother, turning off the car.

Sam doesn't respond, only gets out to meet Micah on the porch.

"Well, it's not much, but it's home. Besides, it's better than living in the house the family left me," she smiles, as they wait for Dean to come up the steps.

"They left you a possessed house?" Sam asks unbelievably.

"Well, it's been in the family for years. Selling it would be going against my father's wishes, and his father's and his father's."

"So you keep it and it just sits there?" Dean inquires indifferently. "Eating people?"

"I've always been too afraid of the consequences to tear it down," she answers, opening the door and leading the way into the house.

The rooms look lived in, but at the same time vacant. There is furniture, photographs, and candles, but yet they have the feel and air of a house not lived in and abandoned.

"Make yourselves at home." Micah gestures toward the living room, where sit a couch, loveseat, and armchair-all of a dark, wine red suede. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"You got a beer?" Dean asks, plopping himself on the couch and stretching out.

"Yes," Micah sighs. "Sam?"

"I'm alright." He watches her walk toward the back of the house into the kitchen. Sighing heavily, he sits down in the armchair next to the couch his brother lounges on. "Dean, come on, be civil," he says, leaning toward the elder.

"Tell her to, then! She's just being a bitch," Dean huffs. As never before, he strikes his younger brother as a child.

Sam unpredictably lets out a laugh. "I know what this is about: you think she's hot and want to get with her, and she can see you coming from a mile away," Sam laughs quietly.

"What? I don't know what you're talking about. She'd be _lucky_ to get with this," he boasts, gesturing to himself.

Sam says nothing, sitting back and chuckling to himself as he can hear Micah coming their way. Dean glares at him out of the corner of his eye as Micah enters, and only barely looks up at her when she hands him the beer. Watching carefully, Sam notices how meticulously she moves her hand before Dean's fingers can brush against hers.

"So, where do you want to start with research?" Micah asks, sitting on the loveseat, a glass of water-or something-cradled carefully in her hands.

"Usually we start with looking through newspapers and town archives. Has anyone spoken with the families of the most recent victims?" Sam asks.

"The FBI did, and so have the local police. They won't let me anywhere near the case. Half the town thinks our family is cursed, and won't come within 500 feet of me, and the other half thinks I'm crazy," Micah sighs.

"Maybe if you were a bit more…social," Dean muses viciously.

"You know what? I've had about enough of your mouth and your fucking ego!" Micah cries. "Look, if you don't want my help, I'll turn you loose with the rest of the town. Then we'll see just how far you get then!" Riled up, she stands, nearly ready to kick the shit out of this guy who thinks he knows it all.

"I'm sorry, just thought I'd inform you that being a bitch doesn't really get you too far with people," Dean shouts back, rising to mirror her.

"Hey, hey!" Sam yells, standing up between them. "Look, Dean, why don't you stay here. Micah, you and I can go on a walk. Calm you two down."

For a few moments, Dean and Micah continue to stare each other down, Sam looking desperately at the two of them. "Come on, Micah," he begs.

"Fine," she huffs, heading for the door. On her way out, she grabs a dark brown leather jacket and throws it on over her sweater.

"Look, behave yourself," Sam warns, turning away from his brother and following the dark beauty out the front door. She's already halfway down the block. "Hey, wait up!" Jogging, he catches up to her with ease.

The air is chilled, and he can see her breath coming out in huffs and they continue to walk together. "Such an asshole! How can you stand to be near him?" she breathes unbelievably.

"We're brothers," Sam chuckles softly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

"You're kidding! How did you turn out so much different from him-so much better?"

"Dean's got a good heart. You just have to get past his tough guy exterior. He's just…he tries to be the one who doesn't care, but in reality he does. He cares so much. But all he knows is to push people who he doesn't think can protect themselves away. He really does care about you," Sam explains, smiling down on her. Her dark hair glows in the moonlight, giving her an ethereal appearance.

"Yeah, he cares about getting in my pants," she grumbles.

Sam lets out an open, loud laugh. "No, it goes beyond that. He's always been the better looking, studlier on. He believes he's God's gift to women. You have to forgive him. He's just a big softie. All you have to do is give him a chance." Before she can move away, Sam reaches over, putting a hand on her shoulder. Immediately, she stops walking, her eyes closing tightly. "Micah? Micah, are you okay?" She doesn't answer, just stands there next to him.

Behind her eyelids, images flash before her as words pass through her ears. A girl brutally pinned to a ceiling, blood across her stomach, then bursting into flames.

After a few moments of this strange unresponsiveness, Sam lets go of the small girl, snapping his fingers in front of her face. "Micah, answer me!" he cries.

Finally, her eyes slowly open, and she looks up at him. "I'm okay, Sam. Don't worry," she reassures, rubbing her temples with her fingertips.

"What-what was that about?" He leans down to look into her half closed eyes.

"Nothing," she covers, her lie obvious. He gives her a knowing look. "Who's Jessica?" Her question is met with a look of shock and confusion.

"Where did you-how did you-" Sam can't finish due to his absolute surprise.

Author's Note: I wrote this long before "The Journey Home" aired, so kind of keep that in mind when reading future chapters…I think the first eight were written before that episode. Just a quick note. Hope you enjoyed this, and I'll try to have the next chapter up soon!


	5. Not Yours for the Taking

Disclaimer: Still don't own…stop rubbing it in! Just kidding, but when I do find and purchase these boys, you will be the first to know! ;)

Author's Note: Thanks for all the great reviews! It really helps me to know that you guys like it. Okay, now, about this chapter, there's a lot of…well, not so pleasant situations…but nobody, like, dies or anything. Just a warning that Dean isn't the sweet, charming always get the girl type all the time…well, at least not the sweet and charming part ;)

Chapter Five: Not yours for the taking…

Dean threw off his coat, barely hearing it fall to the floor. He's never felt so frustrated by someone, let alone a woman. How could he let her get to him? Pacing around the living room, he mumbles profanities under his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a reflection of light. Looking toward the front door, he sees the hanger on the wall, holding multiple sets of keys dangling down against the wall.

For an instant, a picture flashes in his mind of finding the key to the mansion and getting in on his own to save the day. Okay, so he really just wanted to impress Micah-but he didn't just admit that to himself.

"Alright, it would be an older looking key. Come on, be here," he mumbles, rifling through all of the gold, bronze, and silver trinkets.

Suddenly, he can hear Micah and Sam outside on the porch. Immediately, he moves back to the living room and sits on the couch, leaning forward, elbows on knees and head in hands.

"Dean, we're back," Sam calls, closing the front door.

Looking up, Dean sees Micah standing in the doorway to the living room, her big bright eyes fixed on him. He opens his mouth to speak, but he's cut off when Sam enters.

"How ya doin'?" Sam asks, sitting next to Dean on the couch.

"Fine. How was your walk?" Looking into his younger brother's blue-green orbs, he recognizes that there's a secret held in them.

"Well, it's getting late," Micah says quietly. "I'm going to go take a shower. By the way, the guest room is the second on the left down the hall."

"Thanks," Sam grins as she turns to leave.

Dean waits to question his brother until they hear the shower running. "What is it, Sam?"

"What's what?" Sam looks innocently at his brother.

"Come on, it's written all over your face. What, did you kiss her? Tell me what's going on," Dean presses, standing from the couch.

"No, I didn't kiss her. Why, would you be jealous? Admit it, Dean, you want her," Sam grins his best 'I was right' grin.

"Okay, so she's hot. And she obviously knows something about cars. And the supernatural. In fact, it sounds sorta like she grew up knowing about it, like we did. So, yeah, I'll say it, Sammy, I want her. What's it to you?"

"I just wanted to hear you say it," Sam shrugs, leaning back on the couch. Dean wants to ask again about this secret, but before he can, Sam sits bolt upright. "I almost forgot!"

"Forgot what?" Dean inquires, startled by his brother's action.

"We're-out of rock salt. I think we're going to need it if we do get into that house. I'm going to go see if I can find a grocery store that's still open," Sam lies, hoping his brother doesn't catch on. In all reality, he was going to try to be gone long enough for Micah to get out of the shower so she and his older brother could have some quality alone time.

"Don't even think about asking if you can take my car. Not after the last time. Besides, downtown is only a few blocks away," Dean states plainly.

"Okay, I'll be back in a few."

Dean watches his baby brother go, trying to recall if he'd seen any extra rock salt lying around in their possessions. Brow furrowed, he hears a new sound coming from the bathroom, where the shower is still running-singing. He can't understand the words, but the melody keeps his attention drawn.

In the shower, Micah revels in the feeling of the warm water hitting her sore muscles. Relaxing, she begins to hum a nameless song, a smile coming to her full lips. Lost in her own world, the words to an old folk rock song that her father used to sing come to her mind. She thought it was James Taylor, but couldn't exactly be sure.

At the beginning of the second verse, she hears a door creak, and her singing becomes softer as she tries to figure out if it was, as her mind wants her to believe, that bathroom door.

In the midst of her close listening, she stops singing, losing the words to the darkness of her mind. "Sam?" she finally speaks, "Dean, is that you?"

Her questions are met with silence as she watches a dark shadow move about on the other side of the opaque white curtain. Her body tenses as she moves, ready to reach out and grab the towel on the rack right outside the shower.

"I never would have thought you'd have such a beautiful voice," a gruff voice muses, and she jumps, out of pure shock.

"Dean! You scared the shit out of me," she breathes. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"What? I had to piss," he innocently counters.

"You couldn't wait?" Even she has to laugh at the innocent tone in his voice.

"I apologize, really, but when nature calls…" he lets his voice trail off, knowing that she knows how it ends.

"My god," she sighs, leaning back against the shower wall.

"Where?" Dean jokes. They laugh together for a few moments before the laughter gives way to silence. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," she answers, watching as he steps closer to the curtain.

"Why do you like my brother so much more than me?" His voice carries an air of desperation, need.

"I don't necessarily _like_ him more than you," she begins, wondering how to continue. "It's more that I know he's safer than you. I could see you coming from a mile away."

Dean is quiet for a moment, thinking back on what his brother said. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asks, his voice sounding rougher than he'd intended.

She winces briefly at the angered tone of his voice, even if he can't see her. "Come on! You're one of those guys who thinks that he's got every girl wrapped around his finger. Do you think I'm stupid? But, tell me Dean, how many of those women are desperate for a quick lay, just like you?"

"Look, I'm not desperate for a quick fuck! Any girl that I'm with is-"

"Is what, Dean: lucky?" she cuts him off. "Or do you just take what you want?"

"Where do you get off?" Dean shouts, stepping ever closer to the shower curtain between them.

"I'm not yours for the taking. You're nothing but a cocky asshole. I don't think that you could commit yourself to anyone. Is it easier that way? Does it make you feel better to know that you've got no responsibility to anyone?" she cries.

For a moment, no sound is heard other than the shower. Micah shivers under the drops of water that have begun to turn cold. The tension is so thick that Micah never once thinks that Dean has left or that their argument is over.

Without a sound or word, Dean steps into the shower, fully dressed in a gray t-shirt, jeans, and boots. She backs against the wall, her arms down by her sides and her hands splayed against the tile. He towers over her, his hands on either side of her head.

"What do you want?" he whispers, water dripping down his face. She can feel his hot breath against her cheek as she cowers away from him. "Do you want me to touch you? Fuck you?" He tilts his head down closer to hers, his lips hovering inches away.

"Dean, I-" she's cut off by his lips crashing against hers. Her body lets go of its held tension as she leans into him, falling into his chest. His strong arms wrap around her shivering body as he feels her collapse into them.

Breaking his lips away from hers, he looks down at her, her bright eyes clamped shut. "Micah? Micah! Answer me!" he cries, her body lifeless against him.

Behind her eyelids, images much like those she got from Sam flash, but she's aware that these are not of Jessica. With a gasp, she awakens, her bright green eyes caught with Dean's hazel green orbs.

"Are you okay?" he asks, brushing hair out of her face.

Looking about, she realizes that he's sitting on the bathroom floor, with her wrapped in a towel on his lap.

"Yeah," she answers shortly, out of breath.

"What was that?" he inquires, concern etched on his face.

"I'm sorry about your mother," she says softly, sitting up next to him.

His body tenses. "How did you know about-What do you know?" His brow furrows out of both confusion and sadness.

"There's something I have to tell you," Micah sighs, standing and going to turn the shower off.

A/N: There you go! I hope you like it! This is the longest chapter in the whole story, I think, so don't worry about others being this long!


	6. Untouchable

Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own….don't sue…

Author's Note: Okay, so the amount of reviews have kind of been dwindling -- I'm not complaining, I'm just saying, let me know if you want me to continue this. Now, I've got the story written through Chapter 10, and I'm nearly finished. Let me know what you think. Thanks to those who have reviewed the last few chapters, you're great:)

Chapter Six: Untouchable…

"Dean, I'm what most people call a touch know," she confesses, leaning against the bathroom door.

"Woah, hold on. You mean to tell me that you're psychic?" he responds, standing across the room from her.

"Yes. When people touch me, or I touch objects with some sort of emotional energy, I get visions about them."

"Sam knows, doesn't he?"

"Yeah. While we were out walking. He touched my shoulder and I got visions of Jessica. He told me what happened to her. The same thing happened to your mother, didn't it?" she moves toward him, the towel still wrapped tightly around her.

He doesn't answer right away, but stands, completely still, remembering. Sadly, he nods. As much as he hates to admit it, even he can feel the tears and emotion coming to the surface. "Sam was just a baby. He doesn't even remember her," he chokes out.

"How old were you?" she asks, standing directly in front of him.

"Four, but I have enough memory of her to last a lifetime," he says, a single tear rolling down his cheek. He doesn't recall ever being so emotional while telling people about his mother. Not that he'd gone into detail about it with many people.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, carefully wrapping her arms around him. He begins to pull back, wondering why she'd touch him again, causing her visions. "It's okay. It doesn't happen all the time."

Looking down into her eyes, he lets her slowly wrap her arms around his neck. Giving in, his arms wind around her torso, and he buries his face in the soft spot between her neck and her shoulder. Her hands run through his short hair as she feels him begin to sob against her.

"Shh. I know; you're worried, aren't you? About Sam? For him? Jessica's death has been hard on him, but he'll make it. He's got you. You're his big brother. He looks up to you," she breathes. He can feel her lips moving next to his ear. Slowly, he calms and the tears stop.

"I don't cry," he says, pulling away and looking directly into her eyes. "And my brother hears nothing about this."

"Of course," she smiles up at him. "Are you going to be okay?" Gently, she reaches up and wipes away the last of his tears with the heel of her hand.

"I'll be fine. I should probably let you get dressed," he grins, backing toward the door. "And I should probably get out of these wet clothes."

"Okay," she laughs, watching him back out into the hallway.

As Dean reaches the living room, Sam comes through the front door-empty handed. Smirking, Dean looks at his baby brother. "Did you get the rock salt?" he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh, uh, they didn't have any," Sam falters, knowing that his older brother knows that they have more than enough rock salt in the back of the Impala. Finally, Sam notices that Dean looks as though he's been thrown in a lake. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Micah happened to me," Dean grins, his cocky air returning full force. "I know what your little secret is now."

For a moment Sam wavers, that deer-in-the-headlights look on his face. "What?" he asks, moving into the living room where his brother is.

"That Micah's psychic. I know, okay? She saw Mom when I touched her. Did you know that her visions don't happen every time?" Dean asks, grabbing his duffel bag from where it sits on the floor.

"Yeah, why? You don't think she's lying?" Sam scoffs.

"Absolutely not. How else would she know about Mom and Jess? And when she has her visions: that's something right out of a story, man." Grabbing a black t-shirt and another pair of jeans and boxers, Dean heads down the hall toward the guest room. Carefully, he notices that the bathroom door is open, and Micah missing. Just past the bathroom are the guest room and Micah's room, directly across from one another. From behind the closed door of Micah's room, the brothers can hear music and…talking.

Briefly, the two stop to listen, but can't make out any of the words. "Come on, I feel bad, eavesdropping," Sam nudges his brother, speaking quietly. The continue into the guest bedroom, where Sam closes the door nearly all the way-leaving a small opening to hear Micah's door. "You know, she could be acting," the younger boy muses, turning back to face his brother.

The room is not bright, lit only by a lamp on one of the bedside tables. The walls all appear to be white, or some shade of it, with paintings on each wall. Prints of works by Monet, Picasso, and Rodin. Conveniently, there are two single beds, with two nightstands, both with a lamp. The beds are both covered with white down comforters, and pillows of different light pastel colors.

"The question is still then: how would she know about Mom and Jessica?" Dean asks, peeling the wet shirt off and tossing it on the carpeted floor.

"There could be something more going on. She could have some sort of…I don't know," Sam sighs, sitting heavily on the bed nearest the closet.

"What, like she's got some way of contacting a higher force, or something beyond our power? Sammy, that's a little crazy, even for us," Dean chuckles, pulling on the dry jeans.

"It's Sam," the latter says through clenched teeth. Recovering, he continues, "And it may be crazy, but certainly not unheard of. I mean, from what I've heard her say about her ancestors who built the killing machine of a house, I wouldn't be surprised if her family was accustomed to dabbling in witchcraft. Sarea Williams sounds like she fits the part."

"You've got to be kidding," Dean scoffs, sitting on the other bed, closest to the window.

Their discussion is interrupted when the sound of breaking glass is heard from across the hall. Seconds later, a scream follows. Dean jumps up anxiously and runs to the other door.

"Micah!" he yells, his hands pounding against the closed door. His cry is met with silence. Nervously, he puts his ear to the wood.

"Dean, wasn't she playing music?" Sam says quietly to his brother.

"Yeah. It's not there now," Dean muses, toying with the knob, only to find it locked.

From within, they hear a small groan. "Micah! Micah, are you okay?" Sam shouts.

The two wait for an answer that never comes. Dean looks at Sam, his eyes saying that he's going in, no matter what.

Backing up, he kicks the door near the knob, where the wood shatters and swings open.

The room glows red from the lamp on her own bedside table that has a scarf thrown over it. Between her bed and dresser, they find her crumpled on the floor wearing loose jeans and a sweatshirt.

Crouching down beside her, Dean scoops her small body into his arms, wanting nothing more than to get her out of this room. Standing, he steps past his brother and carries her out into the living room.

"There's nothing in there," Sam states, confused, as he walks into the room.

"What the hell do you think happened?" Dean looks up at the other from where he kneels next to the couch. Absently, his hand and fingers continuously brush over her forehead.

"I don't know. She doesn't look injured or anything, does she?" Sam sits in the armchair, leaning his elbows on his knees.

"Dean," Micah speaks slowly, softly. "Dean, it hurts." She begins moaning, her eyes blinking open.

"What hurts? Micah, you have to show me where it hurts, sweetheart," he replies, looking her over. Sam can't remember the last time he heard his brother speak so softly and lovingly. Though he knows the voice from when they were young.

"My head. It hurts on the inside," she groans, bringing one of her hands up to her temple. "I had a vision. A horrible one. I have to get something to drink."

"No," Dean says firmly, stopping her from sitting up. "Sam will get you a glass of water."

Sam nods, standing and heading toward the kitchen. "I'll grab some aspirin, too. I have some in my bag."

"What the hell happened in there?" Dean asks seriously. "What gave you the vision?"

"I picked up the necklace that my father gave me that belonged to Sarea. And she was there…here, right in front of me. I saw the inside of the mansion, and you were there, and-" she stops, a look of terror filling her eyes. "Dean, you have to leave. You and Sam, you have to get your stuff and get the hell out of this town."

"What? Micah, what's going on?" Sam asks, returning from the kitchen. He's heard every word she's said.

"You have to leave. She wants you. There's no stopping her once she gets her mind set on something. Dean, she's going to take you," she says, tears rolling down her cheeks. She's sitting up now, holding Dean's hands in her lap.

"Micah, we're not leaving until Sarea's in hell," Dean assures, his voice gruff.

"No, you've got to leave now. You can't get rid of her. She'll be in that house, in this town, forever. You can't do anything," she cries, her head falling onto Dean's chest.

His arms wind around her. Concern etched in his rough features, he looks up at Sam. His baby brother, the smart college boy, only shrugs, not having any idea what to do.


	7. Going Home

Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own…don't sue…

Author's Note: As you can see, I'm continuing this, even for the few that are still reviewing…hey, if you like it, let me know! Here goes chapter seven, with more of Dean being the belligerent brother…

Chapter Seven: Going Home…

"Micah, I'm not going to leave until I know that you and the rest of this town are safe. That's final," Dean says, rubbing her back soothingly.

"But we're going to need to get into that house," Sam says softly, sitting down next to her on the couch. "How did Sarea die?"

Slowly, Micah looks up into Dean's eyes. "When she was 61, a maid saw her walking down an upstairs hallway toward the mirror ballroom. That was the last time anyone saw her. She just disappeared in the house."

"So she's held captive by it for all eternity," Dean says carefully. "So it can forever torture her."

"No, that's not it. Henry was taken by the house when Sarea was 30, six years after it took Elijah, the older of the twins. She was so horrified that the house could take her oldest son, but it was as though it tried to make it up to her by taking Henry. By the time my great-grandpa Adam left, the house was the love of her life."

In the silent moments that follow, Sam watches his brother and this girl who has so obviously stolen his heart. The wheels are turning when his thoughts go back to the nightmares he'd had before they'd gotten to Ashland. Suddenly, it all fits.

"Dean, I need to talk to you for a second," he says, standing up.

"We'll be back in a minute. Don't move," Dean comforts Micah. Standing, he follows Sam out on the porch. "What is it?"

"Okay, the way I see it, we've got two options: We get into the car and leave, or we get into that house and send that bitch to hell," Sam states shortly. He shivers slightly against the cold night air, leaning against the porch railing.

"What are you talking about?" his brother counters, crossing his arms over his taut chest.

"Those nightmares I was having on the way here? The girl with the bright green eyes was Micah." He watches as Dean stiffens. "She was telling me to go save you. We were in that house, I know it! This thing is going to kill you! Or her. I never got far enough to find out. Dean, I don't know what to do," Sam's voice cracks from worry. And fear.

"We can't leave here knowing that nothing's been solved, that people are still at risk. That girl in there, she's haunted by it. Her attachment to it, by family or whatever, will kill her someday. I'm not going to let that happen," Dean states resolutely.

"Dean, you just met her. You can't truly think-"

"Sam, there's one thing you have to learn about me: I may be afraid of true commitment, but every one of the people I help means something to me. With Micah, it's more than that. It's like, I don't know, we're meant to be or some mushy, philosophical shit like that. I can feel it."

"Okay, then we have to get into that house. Do you want to tell Micah or should I?" Sam asks, turning toward the door.

"I'll tell her. You go get some sleep. I think it's best if we go over there in the morning." Sam nods, following his older brother into the house.

In the living room, they come upon Micah, with the sofa bed pulled out, blankets and pillows about on the floor.

"I'm gonna go catch some shut eye," Sam yawns, gesturing to the hallway. "G'night, Micah."

She looks up briefly to respond, "Night, Sammy." Dean is surprised when Sam brushed off the nickname, heading for the bedroom.

"What're you doing?" he asks, sitting down in the armchair.

"There is no way in hell that I'm sleeping in my bedroom. Not after my nice little 'visit' from Sarea. So I'm making myself a nice little bed out here," she responds, smiling proudly at how homey she's made it look.

"Understandable. Look, Micah, there's something I need to talk to you about," he begins carefully.

"What time do you want to go over there?" she responds softly, sitting at the end of her 'bed'. He looks at her, surprised by her reaction. "That's the only way to get rid of her, isn't it?"

"Well…yeah. Look, Micah, I know you're not exactly crazy about going in there, but there are a lot people in danger," he replies earnestly, gently taking her hand in his. He waits for any sign of her having a vision, but it never comes. "Even you."

"But Dean, my vision! She wants you dead! She says you're a threat to this family, and that she will have your soul before you destroy her legacy!"

"She spoke to you?" Dean asks, confused.

"Yes," she answers hesitantly. "She told me all of those things in the other room."

"Is this the first time this has happened?" he inquires, looking into her eyes. She doesn't answer, but averts her gaze. "Micah, has she spoken to you before?" he repeats. Again, no answer. She sits in front of him, a broken girl, looking at her hands in her lap. "Micah! Answer the question! Has this happened before?" The anger in his voice causes her tears to return.

"Yes!" she cries, tears flowing down her flushed cheeks. He pulls back, unsure of what he's just done. "Yes, it's happened before! The night before each victim. All my life, she's had this insane connection to me. She's on a mission to make my life miserable. Even those years when the house was supposedly a 'dead cell', I knew they were wrong. She was still taking people. People she'd lured here by some sick twist of fate. They were people nobody around here knew, so no one knew they vanished. Yes, they're probably registered with Missing Persons, but I wouldn't know. I don't dare go look for fear of reliving the vision of how they were taken. When I was 10, I watched her take both of my parents. Charlie raised me from then. That was 11 years ago and I still have nightmares. Do you know why I'm still here? It's because of that connection. When I even think about leaving, she's here, torturing me with visions and psychological pain. Do you even know why you're here?"

"Well, there was an article-" he begins, but doesn't finish.

"She'd finally taken enough lives to land our little town in a national paper. She knew who you were, Dean Winchester, long before you made the decision to come to our 'rescue'. And now, she's going to take you, too," she finishes, her breath ragged and her face red and tear-stained.

"That's why you didn't want us to go in there tonight. Why didn't you say something? I can understand now that I know the torture and pain she's put you through."

"I guess I didn't think that you'd believe me. You know, telling someone that you're psychic and have been haunted by the ghost of your dead great-great-grandmother usually results in them thinking you're crazy," she sighs, wrapping her arms around herself. For a moment they look at each other, when a hint of a smile comes to Micah's lips. "I'm sure our yelling isn't helping Sam get any sleep."

"Don't worry, he doesn't sleep well to begin with," Dean returns her faint smile, moving toward her.

"Jessica," she replies, more of a statement than the question it should be. He nods, a single strong arm winding around her waist.

"You know, I've never met a girl who can contend with my personality quite like you," he breathes huskily into her ear.

"I think you're just a big softie. You think I didn't hear you desperately calling my name through the bedroom door?" she asks playfully.

"What can I say? You've stolen my heart," he laughs, leading her by the hand to sit on the makeshift bed.

She sits and he kneels down on the floor in front of her. "Dean, I'm not going to be just another girl that you conquer and leave. I don't have the emotional stability to keep going through people who do nothing but leave me."

"That's not what this is about," Dean states seriously. He moves closer to her, his lips pressing softly against hers. For a split second, she begins to pull away, but Dean places a warm hand on the back of her neck, and she relaxes.


	8. Facing Demons

Disclaimer: Not mine….are you happy now?

Author's Note: So sorry that it took so long to get this up…I haven't been working on this story much, though that's not an excuse, it's been written for at least two weeks…

Chapter Eight: Facing Demons…

Micah's eyes flutter open slowly against the sunlight streaming in through the windows. She lays on her side in the sofa bed, her legs curled up under her. Looking down, she notices Dean's arm wrapped protectively around her. She can feel the warmth of his bare skin behind her and his breath on her bare shoulder.

Carefully, she rolls over to face him, and his arm instinctively pulls her closer, and she reflexively places a hand on his muscular chest. She watches him silently as he sleeps, amazed at how innocently angelic he looks.

Gently, she presses her lips against his. Dean pulls her closer, so that her chest is flush against his, deepening their kiss. He laughs as she pulls away, his arm still wound tightly around her waist.

"That's not funny. You startled me," she sighs, her fingers absently running up and down his arm.

"I'm sorry," he soothes. She smiles, laying her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"What's your brother going to think?" she asks suddenly, not looking up at him.

"I think he'll be okay. A bit jealous, maybe, but he's always been jealous of me," Dean muses.

"Shut up," Micah smiles against his skin.

"I'll be okay as long as the two of you put clothes on before you get out of that bed," Sam says from the doorway to the kitchen.

Embarrassed, Micah buries her face in Dean's chest. "Oh my god! I've never been so mortified," Micah sighs into him.

"It's okay," Dean chuckles, his voice deep and reverberating. "Come on, we should get up."

Turning over, Micah reaches to the floor for her oversized sweatshirt. Crawling under the blankets, she slips her shirt on and appears once again and crawls out of bed. Dean, slipping into worn jeans, watches Micah come around the couch, her legs bare and tanned.

"Do you boys want anything for breakfast?" she asks, suppressing a yawn.

"We're not really used to being so well-treated," Sam grins down at the girl. In her bare feet, she only stands to about his chest.

"Well, as long as you're here, you might as well get a good, home-cooked meal," Micah states decidedly.

"I'm not arguing," Dean smiles. Coming up behind where she stands in the middle of the kitchen, he wraps his arms around her waist.

"Okay, how does French Toast sound?" she asks, stretching.

"Great," Sam sighs. Since he'd left with his brother, he's been wanting to experience a little bit of normal.

"Wow, that was great," Sam sighs, sitting back in his chair.

The three of them sit around the small circular table, their breakfast finished. Dean hadn't seen his little brother so satisfied since he'd left school. As content as Sam was, Dean could also tell that Micah was nervous and tense. He figured it was nerves about going to the mansion today.

"Well, since you two already got to clean up, I'm going to go change," Micah smiles, standing. She begins to pick up the table, but Sam stops her.

"We'll get it," he says soothingly. She looks up at him, putting the dishes in her hands into his. "Go," he says calmly.

She turns, throwing Dean a quick smile, and disappears to the hallway. The brothers clean up in silence for a bit, neither knowing what to say nor if there's anything to be said.

"She's worried," Dean states quietly.

"I can't lie, I am too," Sam admits. "This really is dangerous."

"Like other trips haven't been?" Dean scoffs. "I've mad a decision, not to mention a promise, not to leave until this is taken care of."

"And what if you never leave?" Sam explodes. "What do I do then? What do I tell Dad? I wouldn't know how to continue!"

"Sammy, don't worry. It'll be fine. We'll finish this, then we'll find Dad-together. I promise you that," Dean assures, looking his brother in the eye. A slight noise from the doorway catches their attention. Turning, they see Micah, in olive green corduroys, a navy t-shirt, and brown hoodie. "You heard?"

She nods, and Dean can see the tears in her grass green eyes. "I'm sorry," Sam whispers, running a hand over his face.

Dean goes to the girl, leaning down to be eye level. "Hey, don't you worry. I made a promise to you, and I'm going to keep that promise. I'm going-we're going to fix this and you're going to be safe. We'll be safe. Nothing is going to happen to any of us."

She looks at him, hesitant to say anything. She'd fallen for him, and Sarea had always known. That's why she chose him, this man standing here in this bright kitchen in torn jeans, a gray t-shirt, blue long sleeved shirt, and leather jacket. Sarea chose him, knowing full well that her great-great-granddaughter would not be able to resist someone who was so understanding and…she thought the word was vulnerable.

"You've got to trust me," he speaks again, squeezing her upper arms.

"Okay," she replies. Even Dean can barely hear her.

"We should get going, then," Sam states, moving toward the living room. Watching the moment between Micah and Dean had made him a bit uncomfortable.

"Are you going to be alright?" Dean asks, leading Micah out of the kitchen.

"Do I have a choice?" she jokes. "I guess it's either continue to suffer under the control of Sarea or risk your life to stop her."

"Hey, I'm okay with you risking my life," Dean smirks at her as they step off the porch.

"Well, I'm glad you're okay with that," Sam says to himself. "I wish I had a say in it."


	9. Back From the Edge

Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, don't sue….

Author's Note: I'm really getting on with this story…even if this chapter doesn't seem like it. I've gotten it written through most of the next chapter, and I think I'll be done in 12 entire chapters….don't quote me on it. I don't know what it is, but my reviewers seem to have dwindled significantly…maybe with my next fic (which, by the way, is already partially written) it will get better. Also, I have the beginnings of a short sequel to this written, let me know if you want it posted when this is finally finished…on with the story….

Chapter Nine: Back from the edge…

The trio stood at the front door of the old mansion. Sam had unlocked the gate because Micah was afraid to touch it. He couldn't believe how brave Micah was to come here. She'd told him horrible stories about all that Sarea's spirit had put her through, and he could understand why this was so difficult for her. Of course, he was scared, too. He couldn't imagine losing his big brother.

"Okay, let's go," Dean said. He grabbed the doorknob, but stops when he feels a hand on his arm. He turns to look down at Micah.

"Hold on, let me see it," Micah says, stepping in front of him. The boys watch her closely as she grabs hold of the knob. Dean's heart jumps as her eyes close tight.

For a moment, there's silence, but the she begins to lightly shake and tears stream down her face. It's all Dean can do not to pull her away from the door. But, the brothers stand, watching as she comes out of her trance, blinking back and wiping at tears.

"What was it?" Sam asks. He can see that this has already drained some of the energy from her.

"The last boy who disappeared. He was an aspiring reporter, went to the local high school. He was young, really young," she sighs as the last few tears roll down her cheeks.

"Are you going to be okay?" Dean asks, placing his hands on her shoulders. She nods, but he's not sure if he should believe her. "Okay, but the minute you want out, just let me know."

Micah nods again and Dean turns to the door, swinging it open. Sam has the duffel of supplies slung over his shoulder, and enters first. Dean moved to follow his younger brother, when Micah gripped his hand. He could feel he fear emanating off of her.

"What? What is it?" he asks worriedly, looking down into her bright, fearfully wide eyes.

"I'm just scared," she breathes, looking around him into the large entry way.

"It's okay. I promise you, I'm not going to leave your side," he reassures, leading her into the house.

"This place is huge," Sam calls to the pair, standing in the center of the large entry room.

The walls, of a dark wood, span several feet up to meet the high ceiling. Furniture sits in the position it was left when the last of Sarea's servants walked out, covered in thick dust and spider webs. Dean feels Micah shiver. It _has_ gotten colder - and darker - since they've entered the massive structure.

"Where do we start?" Micah inquires, turning to both of them.

"The hallway where she was last seen," Dean suggests, looking about, uneasiness evident on his face. He doesn't like being here any more than Micah. "Tell me that you've been here before, Micah. Say that your parents brought you here to look around when you were younger."

"As a matter of fact, they did," Micah smirks, some sort of new found confidence behind her words. "It's up here." Never letting go of Dean's hand, she pulls him to the left of the room, up one side of the winding, grand staircase.

The brothers share a look as they're dragged up the stairs. They've both noticed that, once again, it's gotten darker and colder. It seems to be a trend every time they accomplish something new on their mission.

At the top of the stairs, Micah stops. The other two stop as well, hearing it, too. From the hallway in front of them, a smell is radiating out at them - the smell of rotting flesh. Not just rotting, but burning.

"Micah, welcome home," an eerie, disembodied voice calls from the dark hallway.

At her side, Dean sees sparkling tears roll down her cheeks. "What's wrong? What is it?" he asks, cradling her in his strong arms.

"That voice," she sobs. "It's my mother."

Dean and Sam stare at the small girl in front of them. "It's not your mother," Sam states firmly. "Sarea took your mother, remember? This is only Sarea trying to trick you."

"Sam's right, don't think about it, just move. Which hallway is it?" Placing his hands on each side of her face, turning her to face him. "Micah, where do we need to go?"

Her eyes are caught with his for a moment, before she raises her arm. "That way," she whispers, pointing down the hall directly in front of them, where the voice is coming from.

"Okay," he breathes heavily. Dean understands that this is the point at which he has to find the lesser evil. He must now go alone down that hallway, realizing that Micah can't do it. Lightly, he kisses her lips, then turns to his brother. Sam hands over the bag of weapons and supplies. "I'll be back," he says to the two of them.

Micah is too shocked to move or speak, feeling Sam's hand on her arms, holding her back as Dean jogs down the dark, abandoned corridor.

"No!" she finally screams when Dean is out of sight. She collapses into Sam's arms, tears streaming down her face and her body shaking with sobs.

"Shh. Let it go. He'll be back soon. Dean's strong, strong and brilliant. He'll be fine," Sam whispers in her ear, crumpling to the floor with her cradled in his arms. Even he couldn't believe what he was saying, knowing that Dean had just put his life on the line in a major way.

Quieting, Micah looks up into Sam's blue-green eyes, "He swore he wouldn't leave my side."


	10. Finding the Solution

Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, don't sue…

Author's Note: It's not often that I get this much typed and posted in such a short amount of time…YAY me! Anyhow…I was on a roll with this, and have one more chapter to write (and type) before it's finished! I still want to know if any of you would be interested in a short sequel that really has nothing to do with a case or anything, but more with the relationship of the characters. Let me know. I'll be posting not only chapter 10, but also chapter 11 tonight…so enjoy!

Chapter Ten: Finding the solution…

Shaking, Micah stands in front of Sam, looking determinedly down the dark hallway. "I'm not letting him die," she declares.

In disbelief, Sam watches as Micah's small body moves into the dark of the hall. Jumping to his feet, Sam doesn't know what to do as her figure disappears.

"Micah!" he calls. He waits for an answer that never comes. "Shit!" he yells. Against his better judgment, he takes off down the corridor after his brother and the girl from his nightmare.

Feet into the hallway, Sam can't see or hear anything. Wrapping his arms around himself, he shivers against the cold around him. He doesn't know where he's going, only hopes that, eventually, he'll find either Dean or Micah. He knew that he would find Micah first - his nightmares had told him that.

"Micah!" he yells into the darkness. "Goddammit! Why do I have to be the one who gets left alone."

Down the hall, Micah was feeling her way along the wall. She was determined to find Dean, no matter what the cost to her. She was freezing, her fingers numb with cold.

She swore she could hear someone call her name, but pushed it out of her mind as she continued to look for Dean.

"Dean!" she cried. Her words echoed in the darkness.

Ahead of her, she saw a light. Assuming it was Dean, she ran towards it, only to find that it was a wall-hung sconce. There were more just like it down the rest of the long hall.

"You won't get out of here alive," a soft voice spoke to her. She looked around her in the empty hallway. As she continued to search, Sarea appeared in front of her, adorned in an early twentieth century white gown, her dark hair tied into a prim bun. Her face was pale and evident of death. "You won't and neither will he. I'll have you both in the end."

"Let me find him," Micah spoke confidently. "Let he and Sam get out of here. You don't want them, it's me you're after."

"Why take only you, when I could have all three?" Sarea's face twisted into a wry smirk. "Besides, the younger one is very powerful. He'll be worth more to me than your mother."

"Don't talk that way about my mother!" Micah cries. Sarea had known it was a sore spot. "Please, Sarea. If you let Sam and Dean out without harming them, I'll go with you willingly. If you don't, I promise you, I won't go down without a fight."

"You can have them alive - if you can find them," Sarea agrees, fading into thin air.

Immediately, Micah turns on a heel, realizing that she'll have a better chance of finding Sam than Dean. "Sam!" she calls, walking back into the darkness.

Sam had begun merely inching his way down the hallway, hoping that Micah would come looking soon. Darkness and cold had engulfed him, and he was, for the first time in a long while, truly afraid for his brother's life.

He shook with cold, wishing more than anything that he were dreaming. He wasn't even sure he was gong in the right direction anymore.

"Sam!" he heard her voice come out of the darkness. He spun around, groping in the darkness for her. "Sam!"

Suddenly, he felt her grab his arm, just like in his nightmare. He turned to face her, able to see nothing but her eyes, shining with tears - but that could have been a figment of his imagination.

"Sam, you have to save Dean. Don't worry about me, I'll be all right. I just want you to find Dean and get him out of here." Her voice echoed in the black around them. He nodded, though he knew she couldn't see it.

Just as he went to ask her where to go, she was swept away from him. Moments later, he heard a scream, but, unlike in his dream, he knew it wasn't Micah, but Dean.

"Dean!" he yelled, following the sound of his brother. "Dean, where are you!"

Again, his brother yelled, and Sam, practically sprinting down the dark hallway, finally found the closed door he knew his brother was behind.

"Dean! I'm coming, buddy!" Sam calls. Pushing against the large wooden doors with all of his weight, to no avail. Taking the last measure he can think of - kicking the door in, and it works.

The light coming from the large room blinds him. "The mirror ballroom," he says to himself, entering the brightly lit, expansive room.

In the center of the room, with it's mirror floor, is Dean, in a crumpled mess, his clothes dirty and bloodied. Regaining his sight, Sam sprints toward his brother, obviously in pain and nearly unconscious.

"Dean, come on! Talk to me! You have to be okay," Sam says frantically, looking him over.

"Sam," Dean chokes out. "Where's Micah?"

"She's gone, Dean. I don't know where. We've got to get out of here," Sam says, helping his brother to stand.

"I'm not leaving without her, Sammy," Dean declares as they make their way toward the door.

"Well, it looks like, for once, Sam gets to be the hero," a sultry voice speaks. The boys look up to see a very solid looking Sarea - or so they assume. At the end of an outstretched arm, is Micah, tear-stained face and all. "But I'm afraid you boys won't be going anywhere."

A/N: Okay, so I lied, only one chapter….Sorry, it's just that I'm sick and on Nyquil, and it's seriously knocking me out….enjoy…and if you find any mistakes, let me know and I'll fix them!


	11. Heart of a Hero

Disclaimer: Don't know, don't own, don't sue…

Author's Note: First of all, understand that this originally started as the rest of Chapter 10, but I realized that it would be better all on its own. So it starts right where the last chapter left off. Second, thanks to all my wonderful reviewers who've stuck with me through this process….only this one and a final chapter to go! Last, no one has really told me whether or not they'd like to see the sequel that I've started…I won't post it if everyone thinks that this is enough. Now, enjoy the story…

Chapter Eleven: Heart of a Hero…

"You swore - you swore to me that you've let them go," Micah sobs as Sarea painfully drags her into the massive room.

"You should know better than to trust someone like me," Sarea smiles wickedly, forcing Sam and Dean back into the room as well. "Besides, I'm not going to kill you, Micah. You're all that's left of our powerful little family. But you do have something I want."

"What do you want from her?" Dean growls, standing up straight now.

"I swear to God, there's nothing that I have," Micah pleads.

"Oh, yes there is. You just don't know it." Reaching the center of the room, Sarea tosses Micah to the floor, where she sits, legs tucked under her - gravelling. "You've got it, and I need it." Turning to face the young trio, Sarea notices that something's not right.

Micah looks intently at Dean, frightened. He answers with a quick wink and a cocky smirk. "You'll never get it. You're nothing but an angry spirit. I've been dealing with shit like you since I was eight. You think that because you can control what goes on-" he's cut off by a silencing glare from Sarea.

"Where is he?" she seethes, treading toward the older Winchester brother.

"Where is who?" Dean feigns innocence. Behind the now furious spirit, Micah stands, fire behind her bright eyes.

"The young one - Sam. Where has he gone?" the increasingly transparent woman fumes. Neither Dean nor Micah answer. "You'll tell me where your brother went, or the girl dies."

"You can't kill me," Micah grins confidently. "Who would keep the family alive? You gave up any hope of room for error when you killed my parents."

Sarea turns, knowing that Micah's right. "You may be correct, but I can kill your love here - no questions asked," she states firmly, a sickening smile crossing her pale features. She stretches a hand toward Dean, and he lets out a cry, doubling over in pain.

"No!" Micah screams, fear in her eyes.

"Give me the other boy!"

"I - I don't know where he is," she answers truthfully. "I swear to you. Let Dean go and I'll give you whatever you want from me."

"Ah, yes. Well, if I can't have one, I might as well take the other." For a long moment, Sarea looks at Dean with her cold, dead eyes. "I want his heart."

"What? But I don't-"

"You underestimate youself, doesn't she, Dean? _You've_ stolen it, Micah…the heart of a hero." Dean looks up at Sarea and then to Micah, his hazel-green eyes betraying him. "Tell her! Tell her how she's taken it from you!"

Micah looks at this boy - no, this man - whose fate she holds in her small hands. "Dean, I-"

Behind her, Micah hears something erupt into flames. Before she can turn, Sam grabs her arm, pushing her toward the door. Sarea's face twists into a melting look of fear and torment.

"Micah, go!" Sam yells, heading for his brother.

Without thinking, she takes off running, somehow knowing to trust that Sam will get Dean out.

Her petite legs and feet carry her as fast as they can down the corridor, the fire from the ballroom lighting her way.

At the top of the staircase, she turns, only to see Sam behind her, Dean leaning on him for support, but both of them running for dear life.

"Go, Micah!" Sam yells again, catching up to her.

She turns, flying down the staircase. She can hear the echo of their footsteps in the entryway even as the staircase is engulfed in flames.

Even when they reach the outside, they keep running, until they are safe outside the gate. In front of the black Impala, Sam and Dean collapse to the ground.

Tears in her eyes, Micah watches the mansion burn from outside the gate. She can hear the screams now - not only Sarea's but all the others', too.

Her body shivers from cold, and for the first time, she realizes that it's nearly night. There are no stars because of the ominous clouds overhead.

"You all right?" Dean's voice comes behind her, his hand on her shoulder.

"Better now," she replies, leaning back into his embrace. "Best I've been in 21 years."

"Sammy called the fire department, they're on their way," he says softly, resting his chin atop her head. She nods, transfixed by the flames. "Come on, let's go home."

Agreeing, she turns, taking his hand and walking slowly toward the car.

A/N: Okay, here's the second to last chapter. Hope you enjoyed it! It's not my best writing, but part of me is proud of it. Let me know what you think and I'll get that final chapter up as soon as possible!


	12. Say Goodbye

Disclaimer: You know the drill…

Author's Note: Well, this is the final chapter of this beast…and I'm happy about it. It's not often that I actually finish a fic that I've started, but this monster just wouldn't leave me alone…I hope you've enjoyed reading as much as I've enjoyed writing. Again, if you like, I'll post what I have done of the sequel and begin more work on that. I'll have a lot of free time in a couple weeks when my 5 week winter break begins! Thanks to all my reviewers and readers….love to you all!

Chapter Twelve: Say goodbye…

"Thank you," Micah smiles sadly up at Dean. They stand on the porch, the morning fog heavy around them.

Sam was packing things into the back of his brother's car, letting the couple have some privacy. He'd already rearranged their bags twice.

"It's our job," Dean replies nonchalantly, his arm winding around her waist. "Now you're safe, and our work here is done."

"I told you that I don't want to be just another one of your 'love 'em and leave 'em' girls, but-"

"You're not," he says seriously. "I'm not leaving because I want to; I'm leaving because I have to."

"Your dad." He nods. "Good luck with that. I hope that you find him and the three of you finally bring peace to your family. Maybe once you've done that, you could give me a call," she states sincerely, tears forming in her eyes.

"You bet." Dean pulls her to him, unable to look at her as long as those tears are threatening to fall. He thinks back to the last few days. He'd never loved a woman like he'd loved her - and she'd trusted him enough to give herself to him; body, soul, heart, and mind. He knew also, that Sarea had been right: she'd stolen his heart.

"Look, I hate to break this up, but we should really get going," Sam says quietly from the bottom of the steps.

"Of course," Micah breathes, pulling away from Dean and wiping at her tears. Smiling broadly, she steps down to Sam, her arms finding their way around him. "Thank you for everything. Take care of your big brother - he's not the only hero."

"You got it. Take care of yourself. You're free now, Micah," Sam says in her ear.

"I can do anything I want," she sighs, pulling away. "Even be happy. You take care, Sammy." He doesn't even flinch at the nickname, knowing that she'll be the only person he'll ever allow to use it.

He nods, smiling, and turns to go back to the car as Dean finally steps down off the porch.

"And you," Micah begins. "The next time your brother tells you that he thinks you might die in a situation, think about what he's said before you go jogging into the unknown. He's smart - and very powerful. My psychic-radar was blaring the minute you two walked into the diner," she laughs, her eyes sparkling.

"I'll take it into consideration. Be careful, okay?" he grins down at her, deep emotion evident in his voice.

"I have nothing to be afraid of anymore," she giggles. "Except saying goodbye." Her face falls, as does his.

"Don't say that. I'll be back for you," he vows, leaning down and pressing his lips to hers firmly, for one last time.

Behind her closed eyelids, a vision flashes before Micah's eyes. A giggling little girl with light brown hair and grass green eyes.

Pulling away, Dean smiles down at her. "No goodbyes," he whispers, his hand caressing her cheek. She nods, unable to say anything without bursting into tears. "I'll be back for you, I swear."

Her trusting eyes look back at him as he turns to go. She doesn't move, wanting so badly to do nothing more than throw herself into the backseat of that shining, black, 1967 Chevy Impala.

The brothers wave as they pull out of the driveway, and she mirrors the action, those offending tears finally escaping down her cheeks.

She watches as the car disappears down the quiet, small town street, her arms laid across her stomach.

"I won't hold my breath, Dean Winchester," she whispers once the car vanishes over the horizon.

A smile on her full lips, Micah turns to go back into the house, a changed woman, free from the horrors that have haunted her entire 21 years.

She looks out her front window at the blank space where the Williams mansion once stood. She was free because of two brothers on a quest to do good. And she would carry that with her for the rest of her life.

A/N: Well, there it is, folks…These last few chapters haven't been my best writing, but it's not horrid, either…is it? Let me know what you think! Thanks again…


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